


It Just Sort Of Happened

by Potrix



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Counselor Sam, Crushes, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Frostiron Fest 2014, Hurt Loki, Hurt Tony, Loki Feels, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki-centric, M/M, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Suicide Attempt, Mentions of overdosing, Off-screen Minor Character Death, Principal Nick Fury, Prompt Fill, Sad with a Happy Ending, Therapist Coulson, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, mentions of drug use/abuse, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2819864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Loki has an inkling that Tony and praise have a complicated relationship, that he gets more than enough for his academic achievements and not nearly as much as he deserves for everything else, for the things that count.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I could show you sometime?” Tony asks, snapping Loki out of his musings, rubbing a nervous hand over the back of his neck. “Only if you want, I mean. It’s no big deal if you don’t want to, I’d understand, it’s not-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’d love to,” Loki cuts in, blushing a little at his abruptness but finding he doesn’t care all that much since Tony seems just as eager.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Good, that’s good. I’ve been teaching him tricks lately, but, yeah. Not going as planned, really. Fetch is a little fifty-fifty at the moment, either the big dummy actually goes and retrieves whatever you throw or he just rolls over it and beeps in distress because he’s standing on top of what he’s supposed to pick up and can’t find it. He’s a mess. But there’s some entertainment value there, so he’s got that going for him at least.”</em>
</p><p>Sometimes, Loki learns, getting in trouble is just the first step of something new and wonderful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Just Sort Of Happened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LookingForHell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookingForHell/gifts).



> This is my gift for LookingForHell ([welcometotheoldworld](http://welcometotheoldworld.tumblr.com/)) as part of the [2014 Frostiron Fest](http://frostironfest.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Before you start with the actual story, I recommend reading through these [warnings/bits of information](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/post/105828637223/notes-and-warnings) and to generally heed the tags. Since we’re dealing with an AU here, there are several things I’d like to mention in order to prevent confusion or disappointment later on. Unfortunately, what follows is not completely spoiler-free but also nothing that hasn’t already been put into the tags or will give away (much) of the plot. 
> 
> If you absolutely do not want to read even the most miniscule of spoilers; you don’t have to. The story is complete and makes sense on its own, though I feel the notes make it flow more smoothly. 
> 
> As usual, I am not a native speaker and always welcome feedback of any kind as well as constructive criticism. Should there be any mistakes or other things you feel the need to mention, please do so. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**It Just Sort Of Happened**

Loki is staring into his too milky cup of tea, relishing the almost burning heat seeping through the Styrofoam and into his perpetually cool fingers while principle Fury goes on and on about the incident, as he has come to call it in the hour they’ve been sitting in his office now, fully living up to his name with his tight, angry voice and pinched expression.

The shouting has stopped, at least, but Loki is unsure if the worst of storm has truly passed or if the sudden calm is a trap, a mere prelude to another round of yelling about responsibility, about what sort of goals they would like to achieve during their time at Shield Academy, the school’s rules and guidelines, the _Do_ s and _Don’t_ s for interacting with the other students and why nearly blowing up the science wing, even accidentally, is a huge no-no.

Listening with only half an ear, Loki pulls the emergency blanket tighter around himself, wrinkling his nose at the squelching sound of his drenched clothes, and turns his attention to the sole window of the room, the sky’s dull, ugly grey perfectly reflecting his current mood.

There are good days and there are bad days. Unfortunately, all signs point to today being one of the latter.

It’s the numbness that gets to Loki the most, ironically enough. He has always been a highly sensitive person, reacting much quicker and more emotionally to disruptions in his everyday life and routine, be they positive or negative. Irritation and anger, joy and elation Loki knows how to process and respond to.

This previously unknown indifference, this terrible apathy, however? Not so much.

“Excuse me, am I boring you, Mr Borson?” Fury suddenly snaps, effectively startling Loki back into the present.

He offers a quiet “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” that seems to do absolutely nothing in the way of placating the enraged man.

Fury sighs, briefly narrowing his remaining good eye at Loki, before continuing on with his lecture. “Disregarding the damage to our property and the fact that classes had to be interrupted, the fire department called and the entire building evacuated, that still leaves us with the question of why? What in the name of everything holy and unholy combined possessed you, made you think for even a second that messing around with chemicals that are locked away for the specific reason of not having punks like you messing around with them was the thing to do the moment your professor turned his back on you?”

There is nothing but silence for a long, drawn-out moment, eventually interrupted with, “To be fair, it was only a teensy tiny miscalculation on my part, a missing comma, a miniscule splatter of ink that went forgotten, which could have happened to the best of us and, actually, did happen to the best since it happened to me and, you know, I don’t want to brag or anything, but-“

“Stark,” is all Fury says, making a zipping motion with his fingers across his mouth, and the boy next to Loki falls quiet, but not without an exaggerated huff and roll of his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Let’s try this again, shall we? Less obnoxiousness, more actual explanation this time. Go.”

“I fucked up?” the other boy tries and Loki can’t help a slightly hysterical giggle from escaping him, effectively earning himself the undivided attention from every single person in the room. 

“Loki,” Sam pipes up and Loki glimpses over at the counsellor and away from the seething Fury, “all we want is to understand so we can help you.”

“This is not like you,” Dr Coulson agrees, ignoring the indignant squawking from the other teen at clearly being excluded from that statement, and comes to perch on the edge of Fury’s desk, watching Loki with the mixture of disappointment and pity with which everyone looks at him these days. “If there is something troubling you-“

“I’m fine,” Loki quickly interrupts, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the knowing glance Sam and Dr Coulson share over his head.

“Then why, Loki?” Sam asks, not unkindly, turning to the other teen when he realises there will be no answer forthcoming from Loki himself. “Tony? Anything?”

“It just sort of happened,” Tony shrugs, arms flailing wildly in obvious frustration, “and he was just sort of there. Wrong time, wrong place and all that jazz.”

Which is true enough, Loki supposes, tuning out again as Tony babbles on and Fury starts getting louder once more, both Sam and Dr Coulson trying and mostly failing to mollify and smooth ruffled feathers all around.

He certainly hadn’t planned on any of this, can’t actually recall why, when Tony all but ordered him to keep watch and warn him should anyone come near while he picked the lock on the chemicals cabinet, he’d done as told without a word of complaint or protest.

It’s not as if they’re friends or even know each other all that well. They share most of their AP classes and Loki has noticed Tony before, of course he has, not noticing the usually loud and attention-seeking teen is practically impossible, but until Sam mentioned it just then, Loki hadn’t even known Tony’s first name.

And yet he’d gone along with the utter insanity of Tony’s plan, the danger of it, the prospect of breaking out of the suffocating, oppressing _something_ that’s been descending on him ever since things at home turned sour enough to convince him to dismiss the possible consequences and repercussions. 

“-weekly meetings with both Mr Wilson and Dr Coulson,” Fury is saying when Loki blinks back into the here and now, “until I’m confident we won’t have to bear witness to a repeat of today’s catastrophe any time soon. Additionally, the two of you are officially banned from all extracurricular activities for the rest of the month and yes, that includes Physics Club for you, Mr Stark, and Drama Club and QSA meetings for you, Mr Borson. And since I’m sure you wouldn’t use a suspension to reflect on your recent misbehaviour, you’ll be helping around school after classes with whatever needs doing for the next week, starting tomorrow afternoon. Now get out of my sight, your families are waiting outside to pick you up.”

Knowing full well that he got off relatively easy, Loki shucks the blanket and picks up his backpack without a fuss, muttering goodbyes as he follows Tony, who all but whirled out of the office, into the waiting area where the other boy is already being pulled into what looks like a reluctant embrace by an elderly gentleman in a suit, loudly declaring the unfairness of basically everything.

When he spots him, Tony shoots Loki a small ‘what can you do?’ smile and gives a little wave before Loki, too, finds himself crushed in a bone-shattering hug.

“Loki-“ is as far as Thor gets, then Loki is shoving at him hard, wriggling out of his arms and making a beeline for the door without a backwards glance and only a clipped, “Don’t touch me.” thrown over his shoulder.

***

As expected, Loki is summoned into Odin’s study the moment he steps foot inside the house.

He shakes off the supposed to be reassuring hand Thor places on his arm with a glare, trudging up the stairs with his feet dragging to prolong the moment until he has to stand in front of the Borson patriarch and explain his actions for which he really has no other explanation than Tony’s insufficient “It just sort of happened.”

The whole conversation goes about as well as Loki anticipated; Odin lets him stammer through an apology he can’t bring himself to mean before he voices his sadness about Loki’s inability to be more like Thor who, as Odin is sure to remind him, had the same resources at his disposal and succeeded in graduating High School without so much as a mark in his record and none of this ‘unnecessary drama’ Loki apparently revels in.

Loki slams the door on his way out, taking no small amount of satisfaction in the way the picture frames rattle against the hallway wall, and bypasses a worried Frigga in favour of barricading himself in his room where he flops face first down onto his bed and burrows under the covers before he allows the tears to fall.

He isn’t crying for the attention, having the people who call themselves his family anywhere close is the very last thing he wants to deal with at the moment, or the injustice of being treated differently, like the outsider he always felt he was and found out he most definitely is.

Loki is crying because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Frigga is talking to Odin now, Loki can hear her hushed but no less fierce whispers, chastising her husband for being too harsh, and Odin’s infuriatingly blasé rebuttals about manners and acting out for the sake of it. He knows Thor is hovering just outside, can see his shadow, but none of it matters in the least.

Loki is surrounded by the people he loved most in the world and trusted blindly, making their betrayal hurt all the more deeply, alone and even more lonely in a house full of life and laughter he is no part of anymore.

When Frigga comes knocking, trying to gently coax him downstairs for dinner, Loki chokes on a sob and screams at her to go away despite the ache in his chest her unhappy sigh causes him. The food Thor brings him later goes untouched and grows cold on a tray by the door.

***

“So,” Tony drawls, stabbing at a candy wrapper and depositing in his garbage bag, “why’d you help me out?”

They’re circling the school, collecting trash and fallen leaves, and it’s the first thing either of them has said beside the muted _hello_ s when they met with the janitor and gardener two hours earlier.

Loki shrugs and bends down to grab an empty soda can, stuffing it into his own bag. “I don’t know,” he admits and Tony hums thoughtfully before they lapse into silence again.

Tony is the one to break it a few minutes later, casually leaning against a tree and watching Loki struggle with a particularly stubborn piece of paper that keeps flying just out of reach. “You’re doing that whole QSA thing, right?”

“Yes.” Loki straightens up suspiciously and tenses up automatically. “Is that a problem?”

“What?” Tony frowns, looking genuinely confused for a moment. When it clicks, he laughs and shakes his head, waving a hand about dismissively. “Nah, Bambi, it’s cool. Just trying to make small talk, pass the time, you know? You’re kind of hard to read and I remembered Fury mentioning it, so. Yeah.”

It’s Loki’s turn to be at a loss, tilting his head curiously. “Hard to read?” he questions and then, when the nickname finally catches up with him, demands, “Bambi?”

“Yeah, you know,” Tony grins, biting his bottom lip. “Shy, somewhat mysterious, huge eyes. Just, cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” Loki splutters, caught between disbelief and what he thinks might be shock, earning himself a delighted laugh and mischievous wink from Tony. He can feel his cheeks heat, swallowing his embarrassment and the traitorous spark of hope so he can hiss, “Is this a joke?”

He regrets the harsh words immediately when Tony’s face falls and he ducks his head, concentrating on aimlessly shuffling leaves around with a blush now matching Loki’s own.

“I-“ Loki croaks, clearing his throat, “I mean, thank you? Thanks. Really.”

Feeling awkward, Loki snaps his mouth shut before he gets the chance to blurt anything else and humiliate himself further, turning away toward another patch of lawn to hopefully hide the mortification that must be written all over his features.

To his surprise, all Tony does is laugh again, softer this time, and sidle up to Loki so he can bump their shoulders together. “You’re welcome. Really,” he teases, yelping rather inelegantly when Loki pokes him in the ribs. “Rude. Honestly, today’s youth. Tragic. Anyway. Wanna grab a coffee after we finish up here? I know this place downtown, family business, and the owner, Angelo, he makes the single best Bruttiboni in possibly the entire state of New York, no kidding. He’s a visionary and his espresso is to die for. Literally, that stuff’s so rich it’ll peel your skin off. In the good way. You know what I mean.”

It takes Loki a moment to realise there was a question somewhere among Tony’s ramblings and that Tony is waiting for an answer, one eyebrow quirked inquiringly.

“That sounds nice,” Loki smiles, attempting to sound casual and missing by a mile, going by the growing smirk playing about Tony’s lips, so he adds a huffy, “Shut up.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Tony snorts, going for nonchalant but, Loki thinks smugly, landing somewhere closer to shyly but genuinely pleased.

***

Conversation with Tony is an extraordinary experience, that’s for sure. It also involves a lot more listening than actual talking on Loki’s part, though he really doesn’t mind. Rather the opposite, in fact.

The sight of Tony enthusing about his projects, his eyes alight with happiness and positively sparkling as he gestures and points and scribbles equations on napkins, is absolutely breathtaking. He is clearly in his element, absorbed in a world Loki doesn’t entirely understand but feels privileged to be invited into.

And Loki’s own interests don’t get neglected either, Tony skipping from the Three Laws of Robotics to questions about the current school play to the classic car Tony is restoring in his free time to Charlotte Brontë to Tony’s helper bot he insists is a menace and no real help at all at a speed that leaves Loki’s mind reeling the best way imaginable.

“He’s terrible, I tell you, not worth the scraps he’s made of,” Tony pouts, glaring at Loki when he can’t help but snicker at the annoyed but simultaneously fond expression on Tony’s face. “Oh, _now_ you think it’s funny, but wait until he mixes motor oil into your morning smoothie, see how much you like him then,” he grouches, chucking a sugar packet at Loki’s head.

“I’m sure he means well,” Loki offers. “Besides, you built him yourself, that’s pretty remarkable in and of itself, if you ask me. So what if he has some odd quirks? I think he sounds sweet.”

Loki doesn’t mean to flatter, not intentionally, is only voicing his honest opinion concerning Tony’s skills, but the brief flicker of surprise crossing Tony’s face before it transforms into a proud, beaming smile is beautiful in its innocence and something Loki vows to elicit more often.

Tony is highly intelligent, there’s no doubt about that; they are both attending Advanced Placement classes, after all, always the youngest in their year and still ahead of most of their peers. But Loki has an inkling that Tony and praise have a complicated relationship, that he gets more than enough for his academic achievements and not nearly as much as he deserves for everything else, for the things that count.

“I could show you sometime?” Tony asks, snapping Loki out of his musings, rubbing a nervous hand over the back of his neck. “Only if you want, I mean. It’s no big deal if you don’t want to, I’d understand, it’s not-“

“I’d love to,” Loki cuts in, blushing a little at his abruptness but finding he doesn’t care all that much since Tony seems just as eager.

“Good, that’s good. I’ve been teaching him tricks lately, but, yeah. Not going as planned, really. Fetch is a little fifty-fifty at the moment, either the big dummy actually goes and retrieves whatever you throw or he just rolls over it and beeps in distress because he’s standing on top of what he’s supposed to pick up and can’t find it. He’s a mess. But there’s some entertainment value there, so he’s got that going for him at least.”

They chat for a while longer, Tony relating how he’s working on making the bot more self-aware so he can learn by doing and without Tony running after him to clean up whatever chaos he leaves in his wake, and Loki defending old-fashioned paperbacks over the E-books Tony prefers and praises to high heaven.

Five o’clock rolls around all too soon and Loki reluctantly brings an end to their outing. It wouldn’t do to arrive home later than his parents expect him to, they are upset enough with him as it is for the explosion incident yesterday.

Tony is persistent, accompanying him back to the bus stop despite Loki’s assurance that it isn’t necessary, walking close enough that their arms knock together with every other step.

He carefully doesn’t look at Loki as they make their _goodbye_ s, hands crammed into his pockets and eyes on his shoes. “This was nice,” Tony says hesitantly, more of a question than a statement, face guarded when he finally chances a glance up at Loki.

“I had a good time,” Loki agrees and before he can think better of it, he snakes an arm around Tony and pulls him in, silently cursing himself when Tony’s whole body goes rigid at the contact.

Loki can be forward, he’s painfully aware of that, can be overwhelming with his intensity once he gets over his shyness. He’s been accused of being ‘all or nothing’ before and had to learn the hard way that not everyone is willing to go along with that.

Stuttering an apology, Loki is about to draw away when Tony springs into action, quickly bringing his own arms up to squeeze Loki back, chin coming to rest on Loki’s shoulder. They stay like that for a long moment, only stepping apart when Loki’s bus comes to a halt at the stop behind them.

“See you tomorrow,” Tony says, diving back in for another brief hug, grinning and pulling funny faces that make Loki snort and laugh until the bus rounds the corner and Loki can’t see him anymore.

The woman in the seat next to him raises an eyebrow at him and his antics, causing Loki to blush and hide behind his current book for the remainder of the drive.

***

Loki enters the cafeteria to find his usual, secluded corner table occupied, grumbling to himself as he takes a reluctant seat at a more central one, hoping he has somehow accumulated enough good karma to be left in peace and quiet for the day.

He is halfway through what the lunch lady assured him was simple mac and cheese but smells suspiciously like the locker room after football practice when loud laughter drifts over from the entrance, the sound soon followed by none other than Tony and his gaggle of friends, all chattering away happily as they spread out at a nearby table.

Before he gets the opportunity to decide how to handle this situation, Tony catches his eye and Loki freezes in what he belatedly realises must be the most unattractive position ever, spoon hovering somewhere close to his half-open mouth.

Tony, geeky dork he may be, is popular around school for his snarky humour and widely appreciated for the fact that he, underneath the swagger and schmoozing, is a decent person always up for tutoring or pranking; everyone likes him for something or other.

Loki is invisible. By choice, that’s true, although that choice was made more out of self-preservation and a lack of friends to begin with than any desire to truly be left to his own. Meaning there is absolutely no reason Tony should approach him or even acknowledge the sort-of-friendship they struck up over picking up trash and eating an unhealthy amount of Italian pastries.

So naturally, Tony’s face lights up and, after a quick word to his friends, he comes bouncing right over, plopping down on the bench next to Loki with a cheerful “Hello gorgeous!” that instantly causes the tips of Loki’s ears to turn a dark shade of pink.

Loki has the suspicion that Tony lives off being contrary and defying expectations.

“Give me your phone,” Tony orders, starting to paw at Loki’s pockets with complete disregard for personal space, pouting excessively when Loki nudges him away with a roll of his eyes.

Loki does fish out his cell, however, handing it over to Tony who’s already prattling away about whatever he did instead of sleeping for most of the previous night. Loki can’t really follow the rapid-fire technobabble, but he waits patiently while Tony fiddles with his phone before giving himself a call to exchange numbers.

Apparently satisfied, Tony disregards the phones in favour of poking at Loki’s lunch, looking absolutely scandalised as he squeaks, “What _is_ this? You can’t eat this, what’s wrong with you? Here, we’ll share mine,” he decides and starts to unpack his shoulder bag.

“We’re not supposed to bring outside food in here,” Loki reminds him mildly, nevertheless accepting the pastrami sandwich Tony practically forces at him, exclaiming a pleased little hum at the sight of the Angelo’s wrapper.

“I’d like to survive my teens, thank you very much,” Tony snorts disdainfully and takes a huge bite of his tomato and mozzarella salad, settling his free arm around Loki’s waist which causes Loki to nearly inhale a mouthful of water.

Coughing has the advantage of Tony rubbing a soothing hand over his back, though, so Loki discretely leans into the touch and smiles when Tony launches into an impassioned speech about how the PE teacher ‘totally has it in for me, I swear, that asshole hates me, Loki, he’s bullying me into running and touching sweaty gym equipment and shit, it’s disgusting.’

***

They’re put to task organising stray library books that day, whispering to each other through shelves and over counters whenever the librarian looks the other way, sniggering over crude drawings other students have decorated the tables with and abusing the free WI-FI for decidedly non-research related purposes.

For something supposed to be a punishment, time flies by quickly and the two of them are finishing up when someone taps Loki on the shoulder with an amused “Would you look at that.” which has Loki whirling around with a sneer and batting away the offending hand.

Tay makes a show of looking hurt, even going so far as to clutch a hand to his chest. “Don’t be like that, Loki,” he tisks disapprovingly, reaching out again and huffing in irritation when Loki levels a glare at him as he dislodges the hand again. “Just checking up on you, seeing how you’re doing.”

“That’s none of your business,” Loki spits back angrily, hands balling into fists at his sides.

Ignoring the tension and how unwelcome he is, Tay turns to Tony instead, face morphing into the cheeky grin Loki knows promises danger. “Thanos A'Lars,” he introduces himself, “but everyone calls me Tay.”

Tony doesn’t answer, confused frown forming between his eyes as he glances from Loki to Tay and back, but in the end he takes a solidary step closer to Loki.

“I worry about him,” Tay goes on, completely unperturbed, “he’s so delicate. Invested in people, trusting. And he always takes it so hard when they disappoint him. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know if he’s been doing anything stupid lately, like hurting him-“

“Tay,” Loki warns, but Tay talks right over him, not even pausing or looking at Loki.

“And ever since he found out about-“

Having heard enough, Loki pushes past Tay, hurrying for the exit to the sound of Tony’s shouted “What the fuck is your problem, asshole?”

He refuses to turn even when he hears Tony calling after him, breaking into a run down the hall to retrieve his backpack before he hightails it out of the building, wiping the frustrated tears from his cheeks with jerky, uncoordinated movements.

If they were mere rumours, Loki could live with Tay spreading them, could laugh them off as ridiculous school gossip. Loki knows Tay, uncomfortably intimately so, and whatever he’s gleefully telling Tony right now is nothing but the truth. Twisted, of course, but only enough to make Loki seem even more foolish than he already feels about the events that unfolded first within his family and then, to make matters worse, with Tay himself.

Resigning himself to the fact that he is about to lose the person who could have become what he’s sure would have been a good friend, Loki unknots his earphone cables and turns his music up to seriously unhealthy levels in a futile attempt to drown out his own thoughts.

Once Tay is finished with him, Tony will think Loki weird and rightfully so, either dropping Loki like a hot potato or slowly distancing himself, letting them drift apart until the most Loki can expect will be a nod in passing, if he’s lucky.

Which, evidentially, Loki rarely is.

***

Frigga doesn’t allow him to slip away from attending dinner that evening and by the time Loki finally closes his bedroom door behind himself, having been subjected to half an hour of forced cheerfulness over potatoes and roast, he feels drained and just about ready to collapse for the night.

What’s unexpected, however, are the texts he discovers when he goes to unplug in his phone, all of them from Tony and steadily increasing in urgency and concern.

_‘Are you okay?’_

_‘Who was that guy? Geez, what a dick.’_

_‘Seriously, are you all right? Why did you run?’_

_‘I looked for you but you were already gone by the time I got outside. Did you get home all right?_

_‘What was that douchbag’s problem anyway?’_

_‘Okay, I get it, I’m being pushy. Sorry.’_

_‘And sorry about earlier, too. I should have said something sooner and I didn’t so. Just, sorry.’_

_‘I don’t care if you’re going to yell at me tomorrow for spamming you, please just let me know you’re fine, Loki. Please? Dummy, I named him that and it’s entirely your fault, says hi.’_

Loki blinks down at the last message, momentarily unable to move or even comprehend what he’s seeing.

Once the realisation that Tony is not only far from disgusted with him but genuinely worried about his wellbeing manages to penetrate through the fog of confusion, Loki nearly dislocates his thumbs in his hurry to reply.

_‘Tony, I apologise, my phone was charging and I just saw your messages. I’m fine, exhausted and angry, but otherwise okay. Thanks for checking up on me. Let Dummy know I said hello back. Dummy is an awfully mean name, by the way.’_

Tony writes back almost immediately. _‘It’s the name he deserves. And I’m glad. That you’re okay, I mean. You wanna talk about it?’_

 _‘Absolutely not.’_ Loki replies, then cringes at how rude that sounds, already typing an apology when Tony’s next message plops up.

_‘The offer stands if you change your mind. Hey, so I borrowed, totally going to give it back, I swear, Stuffy Librarian’s gym key. What do you think the swim team would appreciate more in their showerheads, grape or raspberry jell-o?’_

_‘You’re terrible.’_ Loki responds through his chuckling, curling up on his bed as Tony tries to impart on him the importance of regular pranks to uphold his roguish bad boy image, accusing Loki of horrid lies and threatening him with cafeteria food from now until all eternity when Loki suggests that he does not actually have any such image.

***

“Your face!” Loki gasps in shock the next day, reaching out to brush a finger underneath Tony’s swollen eye before he can stop himself.

Tony pouts at him. “Not the greeting I was hoping for. It’s nothing, Dummy being his clumsy self, that’s all.” His tone is casual but he’s wringing his hands, causing Loki to throw him a suspicious glance. “Really, I’ve had worse. Besides, there’s something I need to ask you that’s way more important than my newest workshop mishap.”

Loki’s heart picks up speed at that because this is it. He should have known Tony letting yesterday’s events slide was too good to be true, should have realised he would have questions, would want to know what-

“Are you free tonight?”

“Uh,” Loki says after a moment, the picture of eloquence.

“It’s just,” Tony shrugs, faltering a little at Loki’s lack of a reaction, “it’s Friday and we have this tradition, my friends and me, of getting together every other week for movie night and a sleepover. The shittiest sci-fi you can imagine, pizza until you’re sick of it, a couple of beers. I thought you might want to come?”

Completely thrown for a loop, it takes Loki another few seconds before he finds his voice again. “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he admits sheepishly, eyes firmly focused on a greasy spot on the table.

It’s silent for so long after that that, eventually, Loki has to look up, afraid that the never quiet Tony might have left. What greets him instead is Tony staring at him as if he’s crazy.

“Loki, I invited you. You won’t be intruding or any such shit, I want you to come. And my friend’s will love you.”

Which Loki highly doubts, though he doesn’t voice that thought, not prepared to crush the hopeful, excited expression on Tony’s face for fear of exposing the spark of vulnerability he can make out just underneath.

Steadying himself with a deep breath, Loki forces away his insecurity to ask, “Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nope,” Tony beams back at him, plopping the p, “only yourself, Bambi.”

***

The name Stark comes hand in hand with wealth and riches, Loki knew that much, and his own family isn’t poor by any standards either. Standing on the front steps of the biggest mansion he’s ever seen, Loki still feels intimated and is about ready to bolt when the door opens to reveal someone who is very much not Tony.

“Hi,” the boy smiles, warm and open, instantly making some of Loki’s nervousness melt away. “Come in, Tony said you’d be joining us. Oh, I’m Steve, by the way. You’re in Drama Club, right? I’ve seen you during rehearsals before, I’m with the Art Club, doing the sceneries and costumes and everything.”

Grabbing Loki’s wrist with one bony hand, Steve tugs him inside and leads him through a maze of corridors Loki is pretty sure he’s never going to find his way back out of, steering him into a big room filled with couches, plush armchairs and beanbags in front of a giant plasma TV, people scattered freely all around.

“That’s not the food,” someone points out grumpily, making everyone else look up from their various lounging points to stare at the new arrivals which, in turn, causes Loki’s previous nervousness to make a hasty reappearance.

“Very astute observation, Bucky,” Steve says flatly and Bucky, apparently, reaches out to whack the guy next to him over the back of the head when he starts cackling at that.

“Everyone,” Steve half-shouts over the ruckus of Bucky and the other boy’s squabbling with an ease that gives Loki the impression all of this is a more or less regular occurrence between the friends. “This is Loki,” he introduces, then points to Bucky who’s currently holding the boy sharing his couch in a headlock. “Bucky and Clint, the general consensus is to ignore them whenever they get like this.”

Clint squawks an offended sort of noise that gets smothered when Bucky presses a cushion to his face, simultaneously gracing Loki with a brief nod and a quirk of his lips.

“Natasha, Pepper, Bruce and Peter,” Steve continues, gesturing to the respective people as he goes, the four of them occupying another of the couches and waving over at Loki, murmuring _hello_ s and _hi_ s. “Rhodey and Carol,” Steve gestures at the couple sharing a loveseat and happily ignoring the rest of the group, not even glancing over when there’s a crash from behind a bar in the corner that has Loki whirl around, startled.

“And Wade,” Steve finishes with a roll of his eyes and a long-suffering sigh as Peter starts cursing, jumping over the back of the couch to run after the fleeing and somewhat manically laughing Wade. “You’ll get used to them, I promise. Guys, play nice.”

With that, Steve wedges himself in place next to Bucky while Loki remains standing back, overwhelmed and unsure how to proceed as everyone else falls into easy chatter and playful arguing.

His rescue is Tony who chooses that exact moment to barge in with a stack of pizza boxes in hand and two six-packs of beer precariously balanced on top of them, eyes immediately zoning in on Loki.

“You came,” he exclaims excitedly, unloading his offerings on the coffee table so he can sling an arm around Loki, pulling him close for a hug. “I’m glad you did.”

Loki wills down the blush he can feel creeping up his neck, allowing Tony to settle them both on one of the beanbags, pressed together from knee to hip to shoulder. Which is counterproductive concerning the blush situation but definitely not unwelcome otherwise.

Pizza is distributed, Loki politely declines the beer because he knows it would interfere with his medication and is relieved when Tony fetches him a soda instead and no one makes a comment or joke about him not joining in the drinking, and everyone gathers closer to the TV, Tony resuming his position practically plastered to Loki’s side.

“Okay, suggestions!” Tony calls, waving the remote around as everyone starts yelling movie titles, the room descending into absolute chaos. “All right, Christ, calm down,” he laughs, turning his head to face Loki. “Any preferences?”

“I-“ Loki stammers, wide-eyed, “Worst science fiction you said? I don’t really know much about that genre, I’m sorry.”

There is a beat of silence before the unanimous shout of “Plan 9 from Outer Space!”

***

The movie is amusingly horrible, not that Loki catches much of the plot, busy as he is sneaking glances at Tony and forcing himself not to seem too surprised when Tony takes his hand and links their fingers together, thumb brushing back and forth over Loki’s knuckles.

Despite his integration having gone smoother than he expected, Loki eventually excuses himself and ducks outside to the sound of Bucky, Wade and Clint tumbling over couches and tackling each other and Tony enthusiastically complaining about all of them.

He splashes his face with cold water in the bathroom, trying to get himself together. Tony’s friends have been nothing but welcoming and Loki appreciates the honest effort Pepper and Steve made at making him feel comfortable by starting a discussion about their shared interest in modern art and literature, but the number of people and level of noise, unfamiliar as they are to Loki, quickly grew a little stifling.

Tony assured him that it’s perfectly fine to roam freely, so Loki pushes open the first door he comes across, revealing a reading room with, much to Loki’s relief, a pair of French doors leading out to a small balcony where he leans against the railing, letting the cool night air wash over him.

He can’t say how much time has passed when Tony suddenly presses against his back, arms snaking around his chest and chin hooked over Loki’s shoulder, but he arches back into the contact with an encouraging hum.

“There’s someone else who’s eager to meet you,” Tony murmurs, giving Loki another squeeze before releasing him and letting him turn around. “Up for it? Fair warning, though; he will beep at you and there’s a chance your feet will get rolled over.”

Loki perks up, taking the hand Tony is offering. “Dummy?”

“Dummy,” Tony chuckles.

Dummy is, as Tony promised, strange and faulty and prone to dropping things. Loki adores him and Tony whines about having been replaced already, huffing in mock-indignation as Loki pets the bot and patiently hands him screwdrivers until he seems satisfied.

“The others are probably dead to the world by now,” Tony muses eventually, sitting behind Loki on the floor which Loki suspects he only does so he can glare at Dummy without Loki seeing him do it. “You, eh,” he hesitates and Loki twists around to blink up at him, waiting. “There’s guest rooms, of course, or the rec room, some of the couches can be pulled out. But, and please tell me if that’s too forward or something, my bed’s definitely big enough for two and, I mean, it’s just sleeping and, really, if you’d rather stay somewhere else that’s fine and-“

“Lead the way,” Loki interrupts gently, Tony practically leaping upright and almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to help Loki up, glaring and huffing at the way his fumbling makes Loki snort with excited, slightly nervous giggles.

Loki changes in Tony’s ensuite, donning a pair of sweatpants, a shirt and his favourite hoodie to cover his arms, before venturing into Tony’s room to have a look around as Tony takes his turn getting ready for bed.

Much like his workshop, Tony’s bedroom is a perfect representation of his whirlwind nature; trinkets and tools are strewn all over the place in what, at first glance, seems complete randomness but, upon closer inspection, has a careful system to it.

It’s very clearly Tony’s space but Loki doesn’t feel odd or out of place in it, managing to insert himself seamlessly much like with Tony himself, fitting without having to try.

Tony emerges a couple of minutes later with an unusually timid “Hi.”, chewing his bottom lip and hesitating in joining Loki where he sits on the edge of the bed, equally uncertain what he wants to happen now.

“Music,” Tony decides, scrambling across the room to his stereo and fiddling with the buttons for longer than Loki thinks is strictly necessary, allowing them both a moment to breathe.

Something slow Loki doesn’t recognise soon drifts from the speakers and Tony turns out the main light, coming to flick on the bedside lamp and then just sort of hovering, standing with his knees touching Loki’s crossed legs.

“Can I-?” he asks, motioning at the spot beside Loki, his toes flexing into the carpet anxiously.

Summoning up all his courage, Loki uncurls his legs and lies back, scooting to the middle of the bed to make room for Tony who follows quickly now that they’ve silently agreed on a course of action, settling on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

Their eyes lock and Loki has just about enough time to think how cliché this moment is and how little he cares, and then Tony dips his head and Loki cranes his neck, their mouths brushing together chastely.

Tony sighs, hand coming up to cup the side of Loki’s face, and Loki sneaks his own hand under Tony’s shirt, placing it on his hip, his fingers stroking absently over warm, tanned skin as he seeks out Tony’s lips again.

Their second kiss starts with another shy press of closed lips, deepened after a moment by Tony touching the tip of his tongue to the corner of Loki’s mouth, teasing it along the seam of Loki’s lips, asking for access Loki grants him through a shuddering breath.

“Okay?” Tony wants to know, breathing the words against Loki’s cheek, his hand moving from Loki’s face down over his chest and trailing over his belly and back up again, coming to rest over his collarbone.

In lieu of a verbal reply, Loki slides a hand into Tony’s hair and pulls him closer, playfully nipping at Tony’s jaw and unable to hide his delighted smile at Tony’s resulting moan.

Tony rolls them over with a groan caught somewhere between desperate and incredibly possessive, Loki automatically letting his legs fall open for Tony to slide between them, rubbing his toes up and down Tony’s calves.

Their kisses grow more frantic, sloppier, both of them breathing hard as they arch into each other, hands exploring, feverishly tugging and yanking at clothes until-

“Wait!” Loki pants when Tony reaches for the zipper of his hoodie, Tony immediately sitting up and removing his hands, holding them up in front of him.

“Sorry,” he gulps and rubs a shaking hand over his face, carding it into his own hair and pulling. “Sorry, that was too fast. We don’t have to do anything, it’s good, we’re good.” Peeking out through the gaps between his fingers he adds, sounding afraid, “We are good, right? Sorry, I’m-“ he cuts himself of, pressing his eyes shut with a frustrated growl.

Loki sits up, back against the headboard and Tony kneeling over his legs, still refusing to properly look at him. “It’s not you, Tony, you did nothing wrong. It’s me,” he mumbles quietly, then winces at the phrasing. Bringing his hands up, he gently places them over Tony’s ribs, just the barest amount of pressure to ground them both. “And yes, before you ask, I realise how bad that sounded.”

That, at least, gets a weak chuckle out of Tony.

“It really isn’t your fault, though,” Loki continues, swallowing hard around the lump forming in his throat. “You just-“ he huffs, incapable of finding the right words for a moment, “I just don’t want you to see it, how ugly it is, and think less of me because of it. Selfish as that is.”

“Trying to protect yourself isn’t selfish, Loki,” Tony says kindly, but his face is scrunched up, fingers twitching as Loki watches his conflicted expression until he finally admits, voice barely above a whisper, “Tay told me.”

Loki stares, stops breathing and stares, mind completely, utterly blank. Then, “No. No, no, no, no-“ he repeats, over and over, only realising he’s shaking when Tony hauls him in, holding him against his chest.

Part of Loki wants to struggle, to push him away and scream and kick and cry, lash out and hurt like he’s been hurt, but he can’t find the strength to do so, going lax instead, the only thing keeping him steady the presence of Tony’s arms around him.

The logical part of his brain, currently being beaten into submission by the panicking rest of it, frantically tells him to think; Tony knows, Tony didn’t leave, Tony is still here, Tony is talking to you, pleading with you to _please please please_ just say something.

None of it registers.

What tumbles out of Loki’s mouth, hoarse and devoid of any emotion, is a single word, a simple, “Why.”

Miraculously, Tony understands. “Because I don’t give a shit, it doesn’t matter!” he insists vehemently, but backtracks after a second of consideration. “You matter, what you feel and what you want matter, but not what some shithead tells me in the most insultingly obvious way to humiliate you, not whatever’s left of something that fucked you up so bad you decided to quit it all. I’m not disregarding what happened but it won’t change us, won’t change me and you _now_ , right in this moment. Everyone has some baggage, Loki.”

“Not this kind of baggage,” Loki snaps, putting the last of his energy into it before he sags even more, Tony lowering them both into the sheets, curling protectively around Loki as Loki’s chest heaves with wet, ugly sobs. “What I did, it’s not- it’s-“

Tony hushes him, gently rocking them as much as their positions allow, arms tight and secure around Loki. “My parents, they, uh, they died,” he starts, whispering his own confession into Loki’s mussed hair. “I guess you know that since, well, everyone knows about the accident, it was all over the news and everything. I was in a bad place for a long time, not dealing and generally doing a lot of stupid, fucked up crap. My uncle Edward, he’s my father’s brother, he technically has custody now, but he’s a businessman, he isn’t around. It’s just me and Jarvis most of the time. All I wanted was for the world to stop for one goddamned minute so I could think, process what’d happened, but everyone was all over me, the heir of Stark Industries, son of the late great Howard Stark.” He shifts a little, nosing at Loki’s temple and giving a small, humourless laugh. “I tried cocaine. It was there, I had the money and I thought hey, everything is about as bad is it can possibly get, so why the fuck not?

“It got worse, of course. I had no idea what I was doing, desperate to do something, anything at all, and I overdosed. The very first time I tried it and it nearly killed me. Jarvis found me just in time, called an ambulance and everything. And it was terrifying, don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been more scared in my life than right before I passed out and realised that this was it, but. But somehow, despite the fear, I didn’t care because, looking back now, I’d already given up by that point.”

“But I did it on purpose,” Loki whispers back miserably, burrowing into Tony. “Yours was an accident, I actively tried to, to- you know.”

Tony shrugs, a brief jerk of one shoulder. “End result would have been the same.”

Loki barrels on, ignoring him. “It was stupid, I had no reason. I was weak. People have it worse than me, so much worse, and they manage without breaking, they’re strong and not pathetic and stupid-“

“You lost your family, Loki. That’s not nothing, that’s a lot. Trust me, I should know.”

“I didn’t lose them,” Loki frowns, disentangling himself and swiping his sleeve over his probably highly unattractive, splotchy red face. “I’m not theirs and they lied and it hurt, but they’re still here. I didn’t lose them.”

“Must have felt like it, though,” Tony points out, raising a pointed eyebrow. “Doesn’t even matter if you were close or not, God know me and my parents weren’t, it still sucks. Yeah, they’re still here physically and yeah, theoretically they’re still the same people, but they’re not who you thought they were and I can only imagine how terrifying that must be, looking at them every day and suddenly seeing strangers. Doesn’t matter that they didn’t actually change, everything changed from where you’re standing and that can’t be easy. Important part is that you can get them back if you want to. Doesn’t have to be today or even tomorrow, but when you’re ready, you can get to know them all over again.”

“And you can’t,” Loki breathes, touching a finger to the edge of Tony’s sad, wistful smile. “Tay helped at first, he was nice,” he goes on, needing to get it all out now that he’s started. “When I came back after it happened he was the first person to be there, other than my family, and I latched on, I suppose. I knew what we had wasn’t something deep or profound, but it was enough in that moment, it felt good to be liked, to be close to someone. And he had his fun, it’s what he told me when he broke it off. That I was good enough for some fun but not worth the effort for more if I break and ‘try to off myself’ whenever things don’t go my way.”

“Fucking dick,” Tony mutters, turning onto his back and pulling Loki on top of himself, Loki’s head tucked into the crook of his neck. “One more confession, then I’m done for the night, I promise,” he half laughs, half groans, kissing Loki’s forehead. “After you left the other day, I punched Tay. That’s where I got the black eye, Dummy had nothing to do with it. Well, this time he didn’t.”

Equal parts touched that Tony would act like that on his behalf and annoyed that he resorted to violence to do so, Loki blurts, “You need to apologise to Dummy, you can’t just baselessly accuse him of such heinous crimes, it’s not right.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s never hit me before, he waves that claw around like a maniac most days, he’s such a fucking-“

Loki kisses him silent, laughter bubbling up between them but neither cares, determinedly keeping their mouths together through it all. They kiss through it, unhurried and without urgency, the contact the only thing of importance right then.

Nothing is resolved, really. Monday and whatever creative way of torturing them Fury has come up with over the weekend is looming over their heads. Loki desperately wants his family back but still finds himself reluctant to make the first move, at the same time aching for Tony and his missed chance to reconcile with his own parents.

But there is this, the two of them and whatever is tentatively but steadily growing between them. Loki isn’t alone and neither is Tony.

And that’s a start.

***

**Epilogue - eight months later**

Tony is sprawled in one of the armchairs in the rec room, arms and legs akimbo as he presses a cold glass of iced tea to his forehead. The heat outside is sweltering and there’s really not much more to do than drink plenty, complain about the weather and take frequent cold showers.

The rest of the group is of a shared opinion, scattered over the couches and beanbags and chatting lazily, even Wade exhausted enough to refrain from the usual bullshit he gets up to.

Clint brought along some middle schooler, Kate something or other, who lives next door to him and he only ever refers to as his charge. What the hell Clint is supposed to be teaching her beside how to be an idiot is beyond Tony, but she’s a smart kid with a lot of cheek, so he approves.

Rhodey and Carol are their disgustingly lovey-dovey selves while Bucky and Steve still hover in that ‘best friends who are totally crushing on each other but haven’t gotten around to realising it yet’ state where they mope and grouch whenever the other so much as shows an interest in another human being. It’s equal parts annoying and funny to watch and everyone knows they’ll end up together anyway, so the general idea is to leave them alone and enjoy the show.

Pepper, Natasha, Bruce and Peter are literally insane since it’s the middle of the holydays and they’re discussing school. Tony is punishing them by not talking to them. It’s only moderately successful so far.

And then there’s Loki. Tony smiles to himself as he watches his boyfriend, nose wrinkled adorably at whatever Thor’s saying and gesticulating wildly about, Jane, his girlfriend, patting him on the shoulder with an indulging little half-quirk of her lips.

Having the brothers in the same room, or house, and conversing amicably without anyone shouting or throwing around accusations and insults is a damned miracle. There’s still tension between them, Loki can only tolerate the older boy in moderated doses and, preferably, with other people present, but he’s making an honest effort and so is Thor and that’s what counts.

Tony is about to peel himself and at least one layer of his skin away from his seat when Loki breaks away from Thor and Jane, making his way over to join Tony instead, his face brightening in that humbling way it almost always does when he looks at Tony.

What has Tony frozen to the spot, however, is seeing Loki shuck his hoodie as he goes, leaving him in a pair of delightfully skinny jeans and a simple shirt.

Tony has seen it before, of course he has; the long, jagged and slightly raised pink line, travelling from Loki’s wrist all the way down to the crook of his elbow, the last remaining evidence of the time before.

It’s still a sensitive subject, even in private between only the two of them, and Tony instantly knows that this, Loki baring himself in front of their friends, is significant, important. But he can also see how much it takes out of Loki, can read his reluctance in the way he’s clutching at his arm with his free hand and the nervousness in the pinch of his lips.

And Tony knows his role in this, opens his arms for Loki to fall into and holds him close, cradling his face as he kisses him, slow and deep and promising.

“You okay, Bambi?” he asks, mumbling the words against Loki’s lips, and Loki hums, tightening his own arm around Tony’s waist, and whispers back, “Getting there.”

Which is really all they can ask for. And it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a sequel for this story (showing the events taking place between the end of the main story arch here and the beginning of the epilogue) since that was included in what I had originally planned out. But things got away from me and boom, a little later I already had nearly 10,000 words and decided to cut the whole thing in half. So, look out for more in the (not near, but near-ish) future.
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, go check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works) or come and say hi over on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/).


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